Someone As Dangerous, Tainted, and Flawed As You
by emmaswaning
Summary: Oneshot. This particular story is set right after Buried (2x11), but before the final scenes of Reset (2x12). So it's a very particular time frame I guess. It's just Myka's musings on H.G.'s betrayal. Oh, and there's some sex. Okay. First Warehouse fic, so yeah be nice please.


**a/n:** Promised I'd write this, so here it is. I'm not really sure of the quality - just like everything else I write, but I'm content with this.

also for anyone who follows my other fics I'm _so_ sorry that's it been like a month or so since updating. I might be _that _writer that you hate and leave it there and not continue (I'm specifically talking about All American) but yeah I'm not sure I'm deciding at the moment.

Anyways, this is my _**first** _Warehouse 13 fic. So I'm still getting a hang on writing the characters, but I've been watching it a lot lately and decided,_ why the hell not_, a Bering and Wells femslash fic.

Hope you enjoy!

_"H.G., she played us – she played me!"_

The words echoed in Myka's head – the words she spoke in Egypt after realizing Helena had betrayed her. H.G. Wells, the same woman she had vouched for to Artie, to Mrs. Frederic, and the Regents; the _same_ Helena whose writing she had admired since childhood. Myka shook her head and gripped the steering wheel of the SUV tighter until the skin around her knuckles turned a ghostly white. In spite of the fact that Artie had said it was _"All hands on deck!" _in that annoyed tone, Myka excused herself to drive from the Warehouse back to the B&B – just to think.

It would be empty, considering everyone was at the Warehouse – even Leena – so Myka would be alone and free to _finally_ cry in peace. Truthfully, she had been fighting tears all day – hell, ever since the plane to Paris – but she felt the tears well in her eyes again as she parked the car in the driveway and stepped out of it. Myka shut the door of the car and slowly walked to the front door of the B&B, running a hand through her unruly curls and fishing her keys out of her pocket. After she unlocked and opened the door, she went straight to the kitchen.

"I'm turning in to Pete." Myka said aloud with a small laugh.

* * *

Myka leaned against the counter and tapped her fingers against the granite while she waited for water to boil so she could make herself a cup of tea. She set down her badge and Tesla on the counter. _This should calm me down_, she thought. When the water boiled in the kettle, she reached for it and noticed how shaky she actually was. _If only for a little while_. Tea in hand, she headed upstairs, ready to unwind from her stressful day with a good book. Myka opened the door to her bedroom, faced with the darkness of the vacant room, and set down her mug of tea on her vanity across the room from her bed. Then, she heard it: the telltale click of the lamp at her bedside table, then the room became lit. She quickly glanced to the lamp, and beside it, found sitting cross-legged on her bed, was none other than Helena G. Wells – a coy smile across her face. Myka's eyes grew wide and she froze on the spot.

Helena tilted her head to the side, her hands rubbing nervously on her thighs. Her voice, though, was clear and unfazed. "Oh, _good_, you're finally here! I must say, I've been anxiously awaiting your arrival."

Myka opened her mouth to speak, but instead chose a different option. She found herself running to the door – no more than five feet away. Her Tesla was on the kitchen counter and she wasn't too keen on hand-to-hand combat; with Helena, who knew what _other_ artifacts she could be harbouring?

(Plus, she knew Kempo. _Hell_ if Myka would risk that.)

Somehow, before Myka reached the door, Helena beat her to it. She must've seen it coming. Helena had jumped from her sitting position on the bed and sprinted to the door, shoving Myka against it, effectively closing it before Myka tried again. She slammed her hand beside Myka's head on the hardwood, and huffed out an annoyed breath.

"As brilliant as you are, did you _really_ believe I didn't see that coming?"

"Fight or flight." Myka breathed nervously, avoiding the older woman's gaze. "What are you doing here?"

"I must say, I'm glad you chose 'flight' as opposed to your other option; it would've been a shame to have to use kempo on you." Myka's jaw tightened at that. "Now, can you relax and we may have a simple chat? That's all I ask."

Myka sighed. "You need to leave here. Now. Leena will be back soon, Claudia, Artie, an–"

"Darling, _don't_. I know you're the only one who will be here for quite some time, and that's why I came here: I wanted to be alone with you." Helena took a small step back from Myka and narrowed her eyes. "You're upset with me. Hate so easily turns into fear, Myka. Tell me, what is it that you're afraid of?"

Myka said in a small voice, as if it was completely obvious, "_you_."

Helena arched a solitary brow and quietly laughed, "I know _that_, but it's something _else_, isn't it?"

"No." Myka weakly replied.

* * *

"You're nothing if not stubborn." She said. Helena moved to the side and gestured toward to the bed. "Please, sit, and we can talk."

Myka crossed her arms. "You have five minutes. _Five minutes_, and I'm calling Artie."

"I suppose I should talk fast, then."

Myka nodded and sat on the edge of her bed, rigid, arms crossed, slightly pouting. "Go."

Helena clenched her hands together and began pacing around Myka's bedroom, trying to explain herself. "I know I could _never_ repay you for the kindness you have shown me. Ever since I came in to this century, you've been nothing but supportive and certain of my intentions; that's why I'm sorry for what happened at Warehouse 2. I can't yet explain my reasoning for what I did to you and Pete–"

_"You can't."_ Myka interrupted.

Helena held out a hand in protest. "Please, allow me to finish." Myka slightly rolled her eyes and nodded.

* * *

She stopped her pacing in front of Myka, who was still sitting silently on the edge of her bed, and sighed. "I came here with no expectations, but only with an offering: allow me to make it up to you."

Myka's brow furrowed and she shot Helena an uncertain glance. "How could you make it up to me, Helena?" She cursed herself for using Helena's first name–it was too personal, too sentimental, but she couldn't help it. "Not only did you betray Pete and I in Egypt, but you left us there! You played me, all along you've been playing me, and I stood up for you. And worst of all, you proved everyone right! You couldn't possibly–"

Helena leaned forward and cupped Myka's cheek, pressing a soft kiss to her lips (effectively quieting her outspokenness) and cutting her off mid-sentence. Myka leaned back, her hands gripping the bedsheet, her eyes wide, as she tried to assess her current predicament as logically as possible–she was still Myka, after all. And she decided the most logical solution to her problem was to pull away from Helena's kiss (it was probably best not to kiss someone who was in the Bronze Sector and currently one who she was supposed to be getting back into custody), and she needed to stop reciprocating so feverishly.

* * *

_I should stop._

Myka found her hands drifting from the bedsheet to Helena's hips, gripping them desperately.

_I need to stop._

Helena's lips began their descent, moving across Myka's cheeks, then to her jawline, and settling on the sensitive skin of her neck. Her teeth grazed the column of her neck, biting down none-too-gently (which caused Myka to cry aloud–embarrassingly loud, she would say). Helena slowly and efficiently crawled on to Myka, straddling her thighs and gently grasping her shoulders, thoroughly kissing her. "Do I still only have five minutes?"

_I can't stop. _

Myka gripped the collar of Helena's button-up shirt and pulled her closer against her. She felt the other woman smile at the needy gesture. "So _this_ is what you wanted all along." Myka breathed out with a hint of distaste. "_This_ is why you came here. Some sleazy one-night stand, huh?"

"Darling you _know_ that's nonsense; I told you I came for you." She heard Helena mumble.

"You haven't quite yet, but you will soon." Myka remarked quietly. Though the inventor didn't really understand her words, it took her focus away momentarily–long enough for Myka to grasp Helena's wrists and flip their positions with slight ease so she was on top.

(It was times like these that Myka blessed the Secret Service training she had gone through.)

"You made me look an idiot," Myka began her voice raising with every word, glaring at Helena with a wicked expression. "You betrayed my trust and made me feel like a fool for believing in you. And now you've come here for a _booty call_? I think I deserve this one, no?"

Helena took a deep breath and swallowed audibly, nodding. From her position on the bed, with her hands pinned by the sides of her head, she couldn't do much. She licked her lips as Myka straddled her. Helena was looking up at her with large brown eyes, while Myka leaned down and pressed herself flush against her. Her nails dug into Helena's wrists with her overly-tight grip that showed no signs of release, Myka's teeth, tongue, and lips lavishing her neck with attention.

(So much attention that there would likely be several hickeys in the morning, Myka noted.)

Myka sat up and and loosened her grip on H.G.'s wrists and began to roll her hips against the other woman's, eliciting a sharp gasp from Helena. She quickly moved her hands and nearly tore off the blue button-up blouse that H.G. seemed to favour. She gestured for her to lift her arms and she quietly complied, leaving her in a tank top, boots, and skin-tight jeans, while Myka was still fully clothed. She craved contact, the feeling of warmth and safety (even if arguably, Helena wasn't the safest person for Myka to be with.) What surprised Myka the most about this was how gentle Helena was being. Myka grinded her hips against Helena's, this time, harder. She leaned down and pressed soft kisses to Helena's collarbone, enjoying the way the other woman's breath hitched as she did. Helena's hands drifted to Myka's shoulders, pulling her closer with each groan.

"Myka," Helena pleaded.

_"No."_ Myka replied, moving her lips to her shoulder.

She _couldn't_ form a coherent sentence at that particular moment, and was hyper vigilant about that fact; if Helena knew that she was as eager and attracted to her as she really was, she wouldn't have the upper hand. And in this case, that was something Myka craved; Helena had been two steps ahead of them for quite some time now, and frankly, she was annoyed. Myka was rarely one to be behind.

It was time to even the score.

* * *

Myka's hands made quick work of Helena's jeans, popping the button on them and sliding the zipper down and Helena quickly shimmied them off, kicking off her boots in the process. Helena was left in a tank top and underwear (_Myka was left wordless_) the dark blue a stark contrast against her pale skin.

"I'm afraid, my dear Agent Bering, that I'm at a disadvantage here." Helena said quietly. "May I even it out a bit?"

Myka nodded fervently, mouth slack-jawed. Helena seemed to launch up from her position on the bed as Myka leaned back the slightest bit, pressing their lips together, swallowing Myka's sigh. Helena's hands tugged impatiently at the bottom of her v-neck and sure enough, that was off as well. Myka's hands fell to her hips, lazily tracing patterns against her skin. As Helena moved to remove Myka's pants, she stopped her and pressed her into the mattress again. A coy smile crossed Myka's face, and she said in a quiet, husky tone, "Later. Right now, it's my turn." Helena's eyes grew wide and she exhaled deeply. She looked at Myka–whose eyes were just as dark as hers were–and pleaded once more.

"Myka, _please_."

* * *

Helena's head fell back against the mattress when she felt Myka's slim fingers enter her and begin pumping steadily.  
_  
"Oh __god, Myka."__  
_

Myka raised her brows and a smug smile crossed her features.

When all was said and done, Helena was coming undone below Myka, her hands desperately clutching Myka's lower back for purchase, her mouth opening and releasing shallow ragged breaths. The following morning, Myka awoke to an empty bed; no surprise, considering the circumstances. She leaned up and stretched her arms out, noticing a small yellow square on her bedside table. A post-it note. She snatched it from the hardwood surface and smirked at the message scribbled upon it.

_It appears I'm the one who owes you now, and I plan to repay you quite soon._

Myka's knowing smirk disappeared when she realized that she didn't know exactly _when _Helena would return the favour.


End file.
